Bendy and the Ink Machine: Family Thriller
by LilithArtist
Summary: After receiving a strange note, Mae and Bogart accompanied their uncle, Henry, to the studio he once worked at over thirty years ago. But nothing is as it seems, as the family finds out from the moment they start up the mysterious Ink Machine. What happened to the staff of the studio? What horrors wait for them? And what does Bendy have to do with all of this?
1. Prologue

**Hello, there. Lilith here.**

 **And...yeah! I've jumped on the wagon that is the latest developing indie game: Bendy and the Ink Machine.**

 **I won't deny that as much as I'm not much of a horror game fan (let's face it, horror games these days have gotten less horror-y and more shooter-y in big name games), I won't deny that at least the indie games have been giving people the horror they crave. And this game - created by the one and only theMeatly and Mike Mood - certainly has an art style that I'm totally invested in (and wish I could play myself).**

 **And given how far it's come along, I thought it'd be amusing to put my own spin on the story. Because why not?**

 **So, without further ado, enjoy this prologue!**

 **EDIT: Seeing how the next chapter will be coming out soon, I expanded on the prologue a little bit, if just to add more to what I already have.**

 **BATIM belongs to theMeatly and Mike Mood. I own the OCs.**

 **Read, leave me a review, but flames are unacceptable.**

* * *

Prologue: The Mysterious Message

"Is it going to rain today, Bogart? I swear I'm seeing lots of clouds."

"How should I know, Mae? It's not like you watch the news and check for the forecast."

On an unusually cloudy autumn morning, Mae and Bogart had just finished up their breakfast routine when the former just now noticed the uncanny sight of dark clouds slowly rolling through the skies like it plans to bring on the rain at any given moment. Given the fact that they're living in the state that might as well be the heart of all things cinematic, the weather should be at least reasonable with every season that rolls by each year. But now, there's something about it that just doesn't seem right.

At the age of twenty-nine, Bogart is an average young man with short, curled black hair with light peachy skin and brown eyes. Mae is twenty-five standing shorter than her brother with bob-length blond hair, light pale skin and blue eyes. Since the both of them had just woken up over an hour ago, the both of them are still in their nightclothes and haven't gotten themselves ready for the new day.

Mae just rolled her eyes as she set the dishes in the sink. "I don't like the news these days, plain and simple."

Bogart sighed in exasperation. "C'mon, now, is it because of the unrelenting rants about family rebellions and demands for more equal rights?"

"Call me childish all you want, but I'd rather watch old films and cartoons," Mae insisted strongly, "like those Bendy cartoons our uncle used to do. You remember those?"

That's something brother and sister remember all too well. Their uncle, Henry, used to work as an animator alongside an eccentric guy called Joey Drew and made cartoons involving a character called Bendy in a newly budding studio called Joey Drew Studios. They used to be told about those cartoons by their uncle when they were just kids back in the day, but over the years, he seldom spoke about his old friend Joey and never mentioned what happened to him. In fact, nobody knew what became of Joey and the people that worked with him or what became of that cartoon studio they'd heard about occasionally.

But then, the sound of something sliding through the letter door caught the attention of the two siblings as they wondered what just arrived at the house at this hour. Not in the mood to waste time, Bogart lazily set aside the newspaper he was reading earlier and left the kitchen to see what the matter is.

But when he got there, though, the only thing he found at the entrance is an envelope that seemed yellowed from age and a seal with the letter initials 'J. D.' stamped on the back of the envelope. On the front of the envelope is their uncle's name, but that's all there is to it.

Suspicious as to whether this is someone's idea of a joke; Bogart opened the door and looked around the front porch – only to find nobody there. Rattled by this, he slowly closed the door and returned back inside.

"That's just creepy…" he muttered to himself.

Mae peeked out from the kitchen and asked, "What'd you find, Bogart?"

"Just an old-looking envelope with something in it meant for our uncle," he replied, suspicion evident in his voice.

As he returned to the kitchen, Mae snatched the envelope from her brother's hand and examined it herself, curious as to what it is that got sent to their uncle's doorstep.

"Wait…Is this thing sent by that Mr. Drew?" Mae asked. "If so, then what took him so long to write a letter? I thought he lost touch with our family long ago."

Bogart shrugged his shoulders. "Heck if I know. We'd better let Uncle Henry see this, and let him be the judge about it."

"And what am I supposed to be judging about?"

Both siblings turned around to find that their uncle Henry just happened to come down the stairs without them realizing he heard about the strange mail delivery. Despite being in his late fifties, he has the decent physicality of someone in their twenties or thirties, but the grey streaks running rampant in his otherwise brown hair and the slight wrinkles near his eyes warned about his actual age. Even after years of no involvement with his former job, he still dressed like that of an artist trying to make ends meet since the old ink stains are still visible on his trousers, and his shirt was disheveled from repeated rolling up his sleeves and adjusting the collar regularly.

Both siblings can tell that he knows something's up since he has his eyes fixated on the envelope in Mae's hands and his brows held a poorly hidden indication of suspicion crossing his face. Perchance he heard mention of the name of Joey Drew as he was coming down the stairs? If that's the case, then he probably has a lot of questions that not even he can answer about what is going on today.

"Where did that come from?" Henry asked them, implying the envelope.

"No clue. I didn't find anybody outside," Bogart replied first. "And to my knowledge, the mailman has a day off today."

"Uncle Henry, you don't think this came from that guy you and Dad used to know way back when, do you?" Mae asked out of curiosity.

Now, this was a rather sensitive topic for the family in the house: Bogart and Mae knew well how their father, uncle, and Joey Drew had big dreams to make their marks in the film industry ever since their youths in California. They had heard a few times how the trio had gone to art school together and talked about big dreams in animation, even the idea of making cartoons that would be the talk of the state. Henry and Joey went on to establish a film studio of their own, and their father joined in as the assistant artist for their uncle. However, years later, the company – as they last heard – went out of business due to financial issues in the wake of 'the Crash', and personal problems occurred between Joey and their relatives. Since then, Henry sought out other film companies that would take his talent while their father turned his attention to providing concept arts for monster movies at another studio. Neither of them has ever heard from their old friend after years of separation.

"Yeah… But that was a long time ago," Henry finally answered.

"Thirty years, if I remember right," Bogart recalled. "But then why write now?"

"Maybe he missed our uncle," Mae guessed, "and wanted to reconcile for whatever mistakes he made before."

"Then why'd he bother writing now?" her brother questioned skeptically. "It's been thirty years. I'm sure everyone else thinks he's either dead or a recluse by now."

Not paying attention to their questions bounced between one another, Henry took the envelope from his niece's hand and opened it up to find out what's been written to him since it's been addressed specifically to him. Sure enough, he finds a short handwritten message written on an old sheet of paper, almost as yellowed as the envelope itself. But something about the message is a bit…off, almost a bit stiff to say the least, like someone was trying to keep a steady hand while writing without making a mess.

 _'_ _Dear Henry,_

 _It seemed like a lifetime since we worked on cartoons together. Thirty years really slips away, doesn't it?_

 _If you're back in town, come to the old workshop. There's something I need to show you._

 _Your best pal,_

 _Joey Drew'_

This gave Henry all the more reason to believe that his niece and nephew are right to be confused about the sudden mail delivery. He knew that he hadn't heard from Joey for thirty years since the failure of the studio, but then why would he write back now after not contacting him for so long? For that matter, what is it that Joey wanted him to see at their old workshop? Something about this just didn't sit right with him.

The same thing can also be said for Mae and Bogart, since they've peeked over his shoulder to find out what the letter is about. Apparently, the strange implications of an invitation raised a few red flags for them since there aren't any clear details as to why Henry would be summoned to the old studio he used to work at decades prior. Not only that, but he didn't sound remotely aware that Henry's brother, their father, had passed away some years ago and left behind a wife and two children – that is, until a certain incident damaged their mother's reputation, leaving them in their uncle's hands until matters are sorted out.

"So, Mr. Drew doesn't contact you for thirty years, not even a letter to check in on you," Bogart struggled to make sense of the situation, "and now he wants you to come back to the place where your career started for something that he's not telling you about? This all sounds extremely suspicious to me."

"Maybe he wants to surprise our uncle," Mae guessed, trying to be optimistic.

Her brother didn't feel convinced. "And just what surprise would that be? There aren't any details about it."

Henry understood the reasons to be suspicious about the message, but even he couldn't help but wonder what it is that Joey wanted to show him after not speaking with him for decades. Perhaps whatever it is he wants to show him is meant to be a surprise, like Mae said. Or maybe there's something amiss in this invitation, as Bogart has reason to believe. Either way, he's not going to find out about it if he doesn't at least return to the old studio he once worked at and investigated what the situation.

"I'm heading to the workshop," Henry suddenly announced.

This stunned both siblings when they heard him suddenly decide to take the invitation.

"Wait, what?" Bogart asked, dumbfounded.

"I'll be heading to the studio, see what Joey wants," Henry clarified, "If I don't find anything after a while, I'll come back home right away."

Although they had no idea why, something about their uncle's idea of departing alone bothered them to no end. Whether it was because they feared losing yet another relative to troubling circumstances or because they think the invitation might be a trap set up by some dangerous serial killer, they don't know, but what they do know is that they aren't too thrilled about letting someone close to them go off alone without a good reason to do so. What if he goes missing and the police can't find any trace of him? No, they do not even want to think about that!

Fortunately, Bogart made his protest first. "I don't think so, Uncle. And besides, even if you do go there, what are you gonna do then? Say 'Hello? Joey? It's me, Henry.', and expect to see your old boss come out and greet you like an old college buddy who missed your presence? Nuh-uh, old man! I'm not letting you head over there alone."

"I'm going, too!" Mae piped up, "I want to know what happened to Mr. Drew, too. If he's hurt or sick or something, then he'll need help."

"Look, I know you kids mean well, but I don't want to –" Henry tried to dissuade them.

"Stop right there, Uncle Henry!" Bogart interrupted, "My sister may not be an expert in film biz, but she's right about one thing: if there's someone in trouble where you're going, someone has to do something to get help. And frankly, we're not gonna let you do this alone. Letting you go by yourself would make me regret not doing anything to help you, and Mae would cry like she did when we had to bury our dad years before shit happened to our mom." He paused a moment to stop his tears. "Look, just give us a few minutes to get dressed and we'll all get out the door together and check out the studio. If we find Mr. Drew, we'll do what we gotta do if he's got troubles. If we don't, we'll get out and report to the police something's wrong, whether there's foul play or not. Simple as that."

As unexpected as it was to hear, not even Henry could deny that his nephew had a legit point about the situation. If anything did happen to him, what could his only living relatives do without his support? Haven't they had enough problems as it is? It felt too difficult to turn his back on them now.

"Alright… You both got ten minutes to get ready," Henry complied, "I'll use the time to make sure the motorcar is functional before we go anywhere. No dawdling, you hear me?"

Try as they might to hide it, the triumphant smiles on the siblings' faces clearly indicated they've succeeded on convincing their uncle into letting them come along for the ride. As their uncle went out the door to check his vehicle in the garage, brother and sister wasted no time hurrying to dress for the trip to the one place they hadn't seen in years. Bogart changed into a plain white button shirt and cool grey pants worn over a light blue long-coat with dark brown shoes; Mae garbed in a purple dress underneath a fur-trimmed plum coat and color-matched bucket cap laced with a net veil with short brown boots.

While Mae felt excitement and nervousness for what might be waiting for them at the studio, however, Bogart carries a heavy feeling of unease as to the strange circumstances of the letter and the invitation that seemed to promise something fascinating. Now, the whole family is joining together to uncover the mystery of the studio once well-known and spoken about by the people in the state, hopefully to find the answers they all have for the questions that lingered within their minds for decades. They don't know what they'll find once they reach their destination, but now they're about to pry open the mystery brought right to them.

But as the entire family left the safety of their home and followed the path down to the place where the beloved Bendy was created by the hands of ambitious men, the air almost felt eerily cold as the clouds continued to spread tints of darkness across the skies. Any traces of civilization that could be identified grew more and more distant as they approached a long abandoned part of the road that once led to a sanctum for the select few that wanted to make their mark on the pages of history.

What neither of them, though, is that they will not be fully prepared for what it is that waits to be discovered…


	2. Chapter 1: Moving Pictures part 1

**Hello again! Lilith here.**

 **Well, I can tell that a few people have gotten interested. That's good to know.**

 **Now, in case you guys aren't in the know, this one's going to be a very slow creation that I'm working on. Considering how we have only one chapter remaining, I'm not going to be rushing through this thing. Besides, I'd like to be prepared for any updates that might be announced by the creators.**

 **That being said, I hope you guys enjoy! :)**

 **EDIT: Thanks to the remastering of the earlier chapters of the game, I've been able to make additions to this chapter that would add flavor to what I had already written. Hope you enjoy it all the same.**

 **To LoVeInVaInTrYsTiLl: Thanks so much for your first review! It's nice to know you're interested.**

 **To icecrusher736: I'm glad that you appreciate what I've brought to the table. Thanks a ton! I'll admit, the speech in the game is very limited. I guess I wanted to give myself a challenge in trying to make an expansion out of it. I'll do my best to invest in this while I can.**

 **BATIM belongs to theMeatly and Mike Mood. I own the OCs.**

 **Read, leave me a review, but flames are unacceptable.**

* * *

Chapter 1 – Moving Pictures, Part 1

Standing in nostalgia at the run-down and dilapidated ruin of what used to speak of big dreams, an unsettling silence crossed the trio as they gazed upon a fallen studio that no longer held the humble beginnings it originally had. What was once a fresh and innovative building holding the promises of success is now nothing more than a crumbling shell of what it used to represent; cracks crept around the outside of the studio, and vines of ivy swarmed over the sign of the business that hung high above the entrance door. Some of the paint and plaster have begun to fall apart, revealing the wood hidden underneath, and what windows could be found around the outside appeared to have been covered heavily in dust and grime from unknown years of extreme neglect. Worse still, the parking lot the family had just stopped at is fractured and worn down from lack of use over the years, and greens can be seen making an emerge from below the asphalt spread along the empty space.

Looking at the place, Henry couldn't help sighing to himself as he looked upon the place he used to know, wondering what could have happened to reduce it to this level of ruin.

"I never thought I'd be back here again," he admitted aloud.

Behind him, Mae and Bogart gazed dumbstruck at the sight of the decimated studio. Bogart didn't feel too much surprised that the studio itself would be out of business, but even he couldn't deny that the state of the place is dismal beyond belief. Mae, on the other hand, was shocked to see how abandoned it looked, almost like those old haunted houses she's heard about in books or seen in horror movies.

"So this is the old Joey Drew Studios?" Bogart asked, "It looks like a dump. I'm honestly surprised that there's nobody here."

"I wonder what happened to cause it to be abandoned like this," Mae confessed, "I mean, if it was shut down, shouldn't there be a sign to imply such an issue?"

"Maybe because nobody ever came down here to investigate the conditions of this mess of a studio?" her brother guessed.

That's something even Henry had half a mind to agree on. When was the last time anybody came down to this studio? If something happened out there, someone would've gotten suspicious about it and considered launching an investigation. But then again, even he was guilty for not thinking about checking the situation all those years after he left.

"So…how are we going to get in?" Mae asked.

The question got Henry thinking. The front door didn't seem to be barred on their side, so that must mean there is a way to open it without too much trouble…assuming that the lock itself hasn't rusted from decades of disuse.

"Let's see… There should be something we can use to open the door," he replied as he examined the entrance.

"While you're looking, I'll get the crowbar," Bogart said as he turned back to the car, "Just in case there aren't any keys lying around."

Carefully shuffling through the overgrown ivy and shrubs that grew around the outside of the main entrance to the studio, Henry searched around the area for anything that can open the door in front of them – preferably a key. Mae tried to help her uncle find anything that hints at a key, examining the mailbox and the steps for anything out of the ordinary. But neither of them could find anything that would help them out; it almost as though they might need to use force to open the door.

That is, until all three of them heard the sound of something unlocking from the inside, making them pause in confusion as to what happened. Was someone there? They didn't hear anybody stepping close to the door, so how was that possible?

Suspicious, Henry cautiously approached the door and turned the knob slowly, not wanting to take chances at a nasty surprise. But as he pushed on the door, he found that it undoubtedly opened effectively – but with clear creaking of the unused hinges warning about how old it really is. But as the door opened wide, the family peered into the entrance to find nobody there. If anything, the hall leading into the studio is as empty as the driest desert in the country where nobody would dare to remain for too long.

When Bogart peeked inside, he had only one question in mind. "What the hell's going on here?"

"I wonder if someone heard us outside and unlocked it for us," Mae said out of curiosity.

On Henry's part, he felt compelled to enter inside what was once Joey Drew Studios and examine the insides of the building. As he stepped inside, Mae and Bogart noticed their uncle going in and followed closely behind him until everyone is accounted for, with Bogart holding the crowbar for defense and Mae following after him. As soon as all of them are inside, however, the door abruptly closed behind them, leaving them no chance to turn around and leave.

The main entrance inside of the studio didn't seem to fare any better than the exterior of the building either. The hall leading in held up old posters of the Bendy cartoons, obviously yellowed from age and long periods of non-use, and the walls and the wooden beams have also aged and begun to fall apart after years of neglect. On one side, they could've sworn that they're seeing something black and soupy leaking out from the ceiling. But what is it?

Bogart cautiously rubbed a finger against the dark liquid and examined it closely. "It's ink… But why would ink be leaking?"

Henry shook his head, not having the answer to the question. Not even he had a clue as to how ink could be there, much less what its purpose was. But what he did know for sure is that Joey is not there to greet them. That meant one thing: he and his family are on their own in this lonely place.

"Alright, Joey," he murmured to himself, "We're here. Let's see if we can find what you wanted me to see."

Mae slowly inched forward and called out, "Mr. Drew? Hello? Anybody here?"

"I don't see anyone here. Why does that Joey chap want you to come here, Uncle?" Bogart asked.

"Well, Joey wants to show me something. Since we're here, let's take a look around," Henry replied, "and figure out what it is he wanted us to find in this place."

"It has to be important enough to get the message out," Mae agreed.

"Or some kind of sick joke," Bogart had his doubts, "Either way, I guess we won't know unless we check out the place."

Proceeding through the hall into the main room presented the current state of the studio a little more. Yellowed papers are strewn about all over the place, and chairs are mishandled with film equipment. A lonely desk sat in a corner with a small cutout that carried the seemingly innocent image of the little demon, barely lit under an artist's lamp that remains alight despite how much neglect the lens has experienced. There were, however, a few unsettling things to be found within the vicinity of the entrance. A film projector sat alone near the chairs, endlessly running a blank screen on an empty canvas without a purpose. On the wall, a giant set of film reels holding the logo **Joey Drew Studios** kept spinning forever, but produced no sound for anyone to hear. The walls displayed cracks forming out and revealing the wood that was used in the construction of the studio, tearing apart slowly from severe lack of vigilant repair; some of the cracks even had planks of wood boarded around it like crude bandages that aren't even close to keeping the damage under control.

"Wow. What a mess," Mae commented at the state of the room.

"There must be something in the studio we need to know about," Henry deduced, "Let's scatter a moment and see if we can find anything worth investigating."

"Sure thing, Uncle," Bogart agreed.

At this suggestion, each of them began to split off from each other to get better ground over the place, seeing what they can find. Henry branched off to the left of the main hall, Mae split off to the right of the hall down another hallway, while Bogart stayed where he is so that he could inspect for anything out of the ordinary.

* * *

In Bogart's case, as he investigated the main hall, he couldn't shake off the weird feeling that someone's eyes are fixed on him, even though he felt sure that nobody's here with him; besides, it's not like anyone came to welcome them in anyway. Plus, who on earth would leave a projector running endlessly by itself? He always thought that a film projector would run short after a period of time running the reels, and then would stop running altogether. He could vaguely remember his dad once telling him how filmmaking worked when animation was considered a big deal.

As Bogart was examining the condition of the projector, though, he stopped short when he looked up to find a giant cutout of the character Bendy. It stood alone in the corner, with its cheesy grin and quirky eyes fixed on where he is. He couldn't put his finger to it, but something about that human-sized cardboard portrait sent a chill crawling down his spine, like that thing is perpetually watching his every move. It brought him to mind that someone must've put it there either just to creep someone out, or because of problems finding spare space to place something as huge as this in proper storage.

"Damn cutout's freaking me out…" he muttered lowly as he backed away. "It's like he's got his eyes on me."

* * *

Henry looked around the corner to the far left of the studio, and was surprised to find something familiar to him: a lone desk seated in the corner of the studio, starting to build up cobwebs with its light still on. Papers hung around the walls like it's somebody's business, and a single Bendy cutout stood there quietly, grinning at him with its goofy smile. Although he had no idea how the cutout got there, he couldn't help but feel a stir of nostalgia as he examined the very thing that was once a part of him during his ventures into the animation industry.

"It's my old desk," he sighed, "I've wasted so much time on this chair."

It certainly reminded him of the early beginnings when Joey Drew Studios was first established; there was much promise on making a niche in the industry. He remembered how he and his brother had wanted to join in the revolutionary creative endeavor ever since a particular genius discovered how to set the blueprints for the new form of art. It's such a shame that unfortunate circumstances made these shared dreams fall apart…

 _'_ _Maybe it's a good thing Roger isn't around to see the state of the studio,'_ Henry thought, regarding his late brother, _'He would've been heartbroken at how much ruin it went through after all these years…'_

Boy, did he miss his brother Roger. He missed how he was the only one of the two collaborators with Joey who could actually keep that eccentric genius from doing anything extreme that would hurt the funds for the studio. He missed how his brother did his very best to encourage the staff that worked there to keep their chins up with hopes that their work won't be for naught. He even missed how Roger had a habit of bringing his wife to the studio just for the fun of it, usually because Joey didn't consider the idea that someone had to get married sometime in the near future; they always had a good laugh about it afterwards.

But that all felt like a very long time ago.

Now, his elder brother has been lost to illness that eventually caught up with him, leaving his son and daughter on their own. After that, their mother got into trouble with her workplace and made a fool of herself. Come to think about it, what did she do to get into enough trouble to lose custody over her children? He hardly ever questioned about it ever since he agreed to take in Bogart and Mae as his own.

Henry opted not to think about it right now. Here he is, in his old workplace, trying to search for Joey and what it is he wanted him to find in his long-forgotten ruined business. In retrospect, he couldn't help but wonder what it is that he's supposed to find in this place. The note, true to Bogart's suspicion, was rather vague about what was meant to be found and presented to him, and now he's here with his niece and nephew investigating the state of this place. He had half a mind to believe that this is either a poorly delivered joke by Joey or a setup to something that might be potentially dangerous.

Just as he was about to turn back, though, he stopped to detect another room past his former desk, something that he certainly didn't recognize. It is another room with several desks for animators with drawings of the little demon in completion, complete with a bathroom for use – except that the way in was boarded up and there's no door in sight for any possible sense of privacy. With the latter, though, he couldn't help but feel a little unease at the cardboard cutout placed inside the bathroom; anybody who went in there would be very uncomfortable about it watching them in what is supposed to be an area of privacy.

"Looks like they knocked out a wall or two after I left," he speculated, "I guess it took a few people to replace me."

If what he had reason to believe is true, then that means whatever people were brought in to fill in his shoes probably had a lot of expectations placed upon their shoulders to match up what he had created before. He couldn't imagine how much pressure Joey might've put on them to be able to put together the animation process.

Either way, he'd better turn back and see if they've found any relevant in this place before they keep going. Perhaps one of the children found something that he hasn't. If so, then they'll definitely be on to something.

* * *

As she looked around at the broken walls and the abandoned furniture, Mae couldn't shake off the vibe that there's something rather out of place with the studio. The run-down state of the studio is one thing to notice, but when Bogart uncovered that the thick watery substance leaking from the ceiling is actually ink, it unnerved her a bit. It made her start to dread whatever it is that Joey did to leave the studio to the wretched state that it currently is. Frankly, she doesn't want to stumble in the middle of a horror film brought into reality.

Her turn toward the corner led her to find a sign that pointed the different locations of the studio in each direction, and subsequently discover large mysterious writing scrawled on the wall along with yet another bout of ink leaking out of the ceiling; but this time, the leak seemed to be bigger than the first one they've seen at the entrance.

But it's the writing that made her uneasy when she examined it closely: **DREAMS COME TRUE**. Something about the words made her wonder who wrote it, and for what purpose it was put there. Was somebody being zealous about accomplishing a big dream, and it somehow happened without her uncle's knowing? Or was somebody being a little too enthusiastic with whatever it is they've been doing over the past thirty years that the words ultimately lost their real meaning over a period of time? Well, she's not too much of an expert in the film industry, sad to say, so what would she know?

"Mr. Drew…what were your dreams before?" Mae couldn't help asking aloud.

Not wanting to ponder on it too long, she opted to keep going and see what else she can find. If there's anything out of the ordinary, she'll let her uncle and brother know what it is as soon as possible.

Just as she turned away from the writing on the wall, though, she stopped to notice something hanging up above an archway down another hall. At first, she had no idea what it is, so she decided to take a closer look and find out what it is. As she got closer, she read that the sign above said: INK MACHINE. Ahead of her seemed to be a hallway leading out towards where the sign is directed, compelling her to investigate what it is that is supposed to be there. Closer inspection allowed her to take a peek at a very strange schedule that monitored the output of ink over the course of every week. With each week, it implied that the amount of ink being involved escalated over time to the point where one week showed a whopping 400 some odd gallons of ink. Next to it, a pipe protruded out from two sides of the wall with a sign that read 'Watch you step' as a warning to anyone who comes by here. Could this mean that…?

"I'd better get Bogie and Uncle Henry," she said as she quickly turned back.

And turn back, she did, to let the guys know what she'd found down the hall so that someone can figure out what it is she discovered inside the studio.

* * *

"I tell you, Uncle. I don't like that look in that bugger's eyes," Bogart said, warily eyeing the cutout he had encountered.

"You shouldn't be surprised to see those things around the place," Henry reminded him, "The studio used to make those cutouts to get old Bendy attention when we started animating."

"Yeah, I know. But it still freaks me out," his nephew reluctantly agreed.

At that point, Henry had returned from his search to the west of the studio to hear from Bogart what he had noticed when they started looking around the place. Needless to say, it became pretty clear that his nephew couldn't help sensing that something is amiss, given how much he's complaining about the cutout alone. In fact, they hadn't even seen Mae yet after they'd entered the main entrance room and split up to search the building.

"Where did your sister go off to?" Henry asked after a momentary pause.

"She went down that hall, last I knew," Bogart replied. "I hope she ain't having any trouble, or got lost for that matter."

Thankfully, they didn't have to bother heading out to find her when she returned to the main room. But from the look of unease on her face, it implied to them that she had found something out of the ordinary, and she isn't exactly sure what it is she should say about her unusual discovery.

"Uncle? Bogie? I think I found something that you really need to see," Mae said when she returned.

Curious, Henry asked, "What did you find?"

"I found a sign down the hall that read something about an ink machine, and there's a schedule that charts the amount of ink that goes through," she replied, "along with creepy writing on the wall." She then looked to her uncle, hoping for answers. "Have you ever had a machine that involves ink in this studio before, Uncle Henry?"

That got Bogart's attention immediately. "Did you just say an ink machine? What the hell kind of invention is that?"

In reply to Mae's question, Henry shook his head. "No, I've never heard of such thing. In fact, I don't remember anything about an ink machine being installed. If there was, I would've known about it before. Did you get a chance to see it?"

"No, I didn't get to," Mae replied, "I thought it'd be better if we all saw it."

Following Mae's trail, the three retraced the steps she left to where she found the path to the mysterious machine. In the process, they did see the writing that she mentioned and, needless to say, the way it was written certainly unnerved Henry and Bogart. Further down the hall, they found the sign that Mae had found and stepped through the hall where the pipe protruded out to find a huge room guarded by a railing. Down below is a dark, dank abyss where several chains emerged from whilst hanging strongly from the ceiling, with crates and barrels making a mess of the ground floor; on the balcony where they're at, a power switch and a generator lay deprived of their electrical energy, having no means to be activated for nearly decades. It does make them wonder if there's something down there worth noting involving the studio, if Joey is that eager to present something that hasn't been specified on.

"Okay…so where's this machine?" Bogart questioned in suspicion. "Don't tell me that it's hiding down there in the dark."

"I'm pretty sure it is," Henry replied as he looked over at the generator, "But it looks like the lift could use a few dry cells."

"Dry cells?" Mae repeated, "As in something like a battery?"

"Pretty much," Bogart answered as he looked around the balcony for clues.

On Henry's part, though, he didn't have to look too far for what they needed. On the shelf, he found one dry cell battery and another inside a large tool box. It was rather strange to find that there weren't too many extra cells inside the studio, let alone for one machine they haven't seen before. But since the generator is right there, he figured that they might as well get the power back on and see what's hiding down below.

"Let's see what my old friend is hiding down there," Henry said as he moved the cells to the generator.

"I just hope it's not something worth calling the police over," Bogart responded.

Once he finished inserting the cells, he pulled the switch, which caused the chains up above to make groaning noises as something enormous was pulled up from the abyss. After the clanking of the chains and the groaning of the machinery moaning from deep down below, the family is beheld by the very machine that the sign directed towards. Sure enough, they were rather perplexed at how strangely designed the contraption is, but the splatters of ink let them know that this is – for real – the infamous ink machine. But something about the comically crafted contraption was just…bizarre. The machine looked more like an oversized fire hydrant with piping shoved underneath its foundations and several bells and whistles that don't seem all that useful on such an impractical monstrosity.

"So this is the ink machine," Henry commented, examining the machine from afar.

"Okay, but how does this thing actually work?" Bogart asked, his skepticism apparent. "I don't see anything here that would continue operating it. You'd think that the inventor would've put in a control system, at the very least."

"What if the switches are put elsewhere for safety reasons?" Mae guessed.

"That just might be the case. Let's keep going, and see if we can find one," Henry agreed.

Their intent on searching for the controls to the peculiar machine guided them into the next hall near where the path to the machine is, and its hallways branching in two different directions to follow. As they passed through, they could've sworn that they saw another Bendy cutout in the corner, staring at them as though watching their current movement. To make matters even more unsettling, when they passed by one of the doors of the studio, the light that could be seen underneath suddenly turned off. Mae and Bogart certainly felt unnerved by those moments. But that was nothing compared to what the family is about to experience next.

Turning to their right, they were about to reach another crossroads when suddenly – without warning – a board of wood loosened from the ceiling, suddenly dropped down and crashed to the floor. All three of them simultaneously flinched when that happened, until they came to the realization that something as petty as a board falling down startled them, which was a little embarrassing to say the least.

"Damn it. Why did that have to happen?" Bogart grumbled at the sight. "A little further, and someone could've died, or gone into a coma."

"At least we weren't under it when it fell," Henry reassured them. "The studio hasn't aged very well, it seems."

"I just hope that won't happen again anytime soon," Mae sighed in displeasure. "It's bad enough the place is in poor condition."

But just when it seemed like it couldn't get any worse, it just did. As they recovered their footing and proceeded to the next crossroad of halls, Mae suddenly let out a horrified scream when she turned to the left direction to see what was over there; this, in turn, caught the attention of Henry and Bogart, and when they turned around to see what frightened her, they also felt horror plaster on their faces.

Nestled over to their left, in a small, dimly lit room, there resided the repulsive sight of what appeared to be a cartoonish creature strapped to what seemed like an operating table used by surgeons or morticians held upward. Slowly and cautiously, the trio entered the room to investigate the nightmarish cadaver of what was once a cartoony wolf; its chest, upon closer inspection, revealed that the creature had been cut open and dissected for unknown purposes. Not helping the atmosphere of the place is the tiny lit candles that brought little light into the room and traces of more ink can be found behind the victim, implying that something happened to render this character into the sorry state it remains. More splatters of ink can be found behind the operating table, and more ink can be found dripping ceaselessly from a fenced hole set high in the ceiling, leaving behind another inky mess on the floor.

Henry, stunned, couldn't help gasping, "Oh my God. Joey…what were you doing?"

"Whatever happened to the poor thing?" Mae asked, terrified.

Bogart looked around the place, wide-eyed from shock, to find another message written on the wall above a desk; but this new one didn't sound pleasant in the slightest. It read: _WHO'S LAUGHING NOW?_ But when he looked to the left of the message, he found a film poster that showed the picture of a cartoon wolf reading **Bendy in: Sheepsongs with Boris the Wolf**. The instant he saw the poster image, he turned back to the cadaver, looked at the poster again, and then back at the corpse once more. At this point, he quickly put two and two together as to the identity of the victimized cartoon animal.

"That's…that's Boris the Wolf," Bogart stated, his voice shaking a bit, "one of those characters in the old cartoons."

Mae's eyes widened from horror. "You mean…that wolf in those cartoons? But then, what did Joey ever do to him!?"

For once, Henry didn't have a clear answer for the questions now present in this godforsaken studio. Not even he had the slightest idea what happened to make one of the cartoon characters end up a dead corpse cut open for…whatever it is that Joey might've been doing in his absence. It almost made him wish he was in the know as to what became of the studio after he had left the place with his brother. If anything, he had half a mind to believe that he probably might not have known Joey as well as he thought.

But staying inside a room with a dissected body isn't going to help with the investigations, though. The only thing they could do now is to keep looking around until they have a better idea as to what is going on.

Not wanting to stick around a murder scene, wasting time cringing over a gruesome sight, Henry carefully led the children out of the room, and then they proceeded to the other side of the hall where they found a rather strange sight before their eyes. Apparently, they have located the main control room for the ink machine. But the uncanny thing about the function of the room is that there's only one lever placed in the very end of the control room; although there is large machinery and pipes surrounding the lever, there were no other mechanisms to meddle with or buttons to press. However, there are six pedestals set in rows of three connected to pipes protruding from the walls, and six pictures with certain images portrayed by each pedestal. Now, what reason would someone like an animator require something similar to a temple's altars inside a studio of all places rather than conventional machinery? That just doesn't seem to fit the bill in a place like this.

"Is that it? Just a lever and some pedestals?" Bogart asked, unimpressed. "I was expecting a bit more than this."

Henry, not answering his nephew's opinion, analytically examined the switch to investigate what it's supposed to do. What he found is the sign that indicated it is the main power switch, no questions asked.

"Alright, we found the switch. Now the question is: how do we get this to work?" Henry asked aloud.

"Is there something wrong with it?" Mae asked as she looked around the place. "I don't see anything broken."

The answer to what's the problem didn't take long for them to find; in fact, they didn't have to look too far. A flashing light showed the words 'low pressure' repeatedly, giving a clue that something needed to be done before they can operate the lever that sat unused by anyone. But for what reason would there be a need for pressure to be managed unless there was something being pumped throughout the building?

But then, a nagging thought crossed Bogart's mind. In more than one instance, there were drops of ink perpetually leaking out from the ceiling; but it never crossed their minds that the leaks might've been coming from somewhere in the studio. Could this mean that there's something in the building that is pumping the inky substance? That can't be right! How can anyone maintain the procession of ink, given its chemical makeup, as opposed to water or any other liquefied compounds?

"Hey, Uncle, you don't suppose someone had the madness to use ink as a way to sustain this place, would you?" Bogart suddenly asked.

"No, I don't see how ink would be useful in that situation," Henry replied skeptically, "I've seen it used in drawings or in the making of films, but never for fuel source or anything like that."

"And then there's the matter of those six altars," Mae added, "I don't remember seeing those things before. And I have no idea what's supposed to go there."

Besides the oddity of the mechanics, the matter of the presence of the pedestals is another confusing element in the mix. Truth be told, Henry certainly never witnessed that sort of thing before, at least to his knowledge. The most reason those things would be used is during a film involving either plundering ancient temples or a coven of cultists dedicated to something malicious, whatever they may be. Seeing the pedestals just brings up a lot of questions that none of them would be able to answer even if they wanted to.

"I don't know what to tell you," Henry admitted, "It's all Greek to me. The only solution I can think of is to search the place for clues. There must be something here that can tell us what's going on, or shed some light as to what we should do."

"So we're backtracking again, huh?" Bogart said dully, "I swear we're playing 'Sherlock Holmes' by this point."

"I just hope nobody tries to scare us while we're exploring," Mae said with worry.

Since there's nothing else they can do in the main control room except to search the whole studio for clues, Henry led them out of the room so they determine what to do from here. But just as they had gotten out, they got quite a scare when – to their surprise – they found yet another Bendy cutout out of nowhere! Henry and Bogart, upon seeing the cutout, abruptly gasped in shock, with Bogart specifically pulling out the crowbar on defensive instinct; Mae, however, let out a brief shriek as she stumbled on the heels of her boots. Considering how they earlier saw a board of wood fall from the ceiling, nobody had the slightest idea as to where the cutout came from, much less who was guilty for trying to scare them.

When Henry recovered from the shock, he had to ask, "Who put this here?"

Bogart groaned as he lowered his crowbar. "Dammit! Again?! I tell you, someone's trying to mess with us!"

Mae had no words to say about the small moment of fright, only that she felt mortified at the fact she had fallen down due to the terror she felt.

"Alright…we'd better get a move on," Henry suggested. He turned to help Mae back on her feet. "Shall we head back to the main hall and discuss what we ought to do now? It'd be better than getting another scare like that."

"It's not like we have any other choice," Bogart agreed, "And frankly, I don't want my sister getting another heart attack."

"I'll be fine…for the moment," Mae tried to reassure them, "Let's just get away from here before Bogie decides to break a cutout with the crowbar."


	3. Chapter 2: Moving Pictures part 2

**Hello again! Lilith here.**

 **And now I've wrapped up chapter one.**

 **See, the thing is, considering the scale I'm working with, I thought it would be more manageable for me if I divided up the chapters into a number of parts. Plus, I have original characters interacting with the main character, so that's another factor here.**

 **That being said, like I mentioned in the previous chapter, thanks to the updates put in the game, at least I have more material.**

 **Also, there might be a possibility that I would create additional characters to add more flavor, assuming theMeatly doesn't decide to flip me over with some surprises I'm not expecting for whatever chapter five will be.**

 **So without further ado, enjoy!**

 **BATIM belongs to theMeatly and Mike Mood. I own the OCs.**

 **Read, leave me a review, but flames are unacceptable.**

* * *

Chapter 2 – Moving Pictures, Part 2

"I gotta say, Uncle, I'm really disturbed by what we've found right now," Bogart said as soon as they had arrived in the main hall. "There's nobody here, we've found a dead toon that should be solely fiction, and there are many damn paper pictures of that grinning demon around the studio. I'm starting to think that some kind of foul play has happened here."

As much as Henry didn't want to admit it out loud, he couldn't deny that there are a lot of things wrong inside the studio. How could so much change and damage occur within those thirty long years while he was away? He had half a mind to agree with Bogart's suspicions of foul play, but he would want to find evidence of anything strange before jumping to conclusions; after all, there had to be a reason for a machine that pumps ink to exist inside the studio, and there had to be a reason why Joey wanted him to come back here and see the mechanical monstrosity for himself.

"But then how do we explain those pedestals in the break room?" Mae asked, "We don't even know what they're used for, let alone how we're supposed to start up a machine that isn't placed within reaching range."

"Well, it looked like a few items are needed to be placed on the pedestals," Henry speculated, "and they're scattered somewhere around the studio. Perhaps they're meant to be used as part of the procedure to start up everything in the studio."

Bogart suspected where it was going. "Sounds like we're about to go on a treasure hunt."

"The studio is big. Finding the stuff might be tricky," Mae admitted.

"Then we'll have to search the whole place, leave no stone unturned," Henry replied like it's a logical move.

"In that case, we'll just have to split up and scout around," his nephew reluctantly agreed.

So the plan to make their search went as follows: using their memory of the pictures set behind the pedestals, it is agreed between each other that they should find two items for each of them to bring to the control room. Once they do that, they'll set the items in their designated place until they can figure out what to do next. In the meantime, since it seemed like there's pressure to be adjusted to run the ink machine, it is also agreed that they must also search for the controls for the pressure and report back once it's found.

* * *

Mae's search began when she retraced her steps towards the room where the ink machine still remained in view. She searched along the shelf for anything that appeared to have been randomly strewn around where they shouldn't be placed, hoping for anything odd to stick out like a sore thumb; but she didn't have much luck with the shelf. But when she opened the trunk, she found an odd gear that should belong to a big machine somewhere within the studio. Thinking this one of the items needed, she took it with her and kept it nestled safely under her arm.

"Alright, then, let's see where else I can go," she said to herself.

As she left to search for other rooms she can investigate, Mae was starting to make her way towards the hall leading to the main hall when she stopped to find a door by the hall to the ink machine opened ajar. Her curiosity getting the better of her, she slowly pushed the door open to find a stairway leading down to what appeared to be a recreational room, where staff members would've taken their breaks at any given time. Aside from the worn-down drapes and the swamp of cartoon posters crammed along the walls, things seemed to be harmless with the slightly messy arrangements of tables and chairs left with empty mugs and piles of books.

On closer inspection, though, it didn't take her long to find one book standing out from the rest, a black cover amongst other colors that stuck out like a sore thumb. She picked it up to see that the title read **The Illusion of Living** and that it was written by Joey Drew himself. It struck her as odd because she certainly didn't think of Mr. Drew being a writer when she's only known him to be an animator like her father and uncle; plus, she couldn't help thinking that he might've been doing some plagiarizing because she had seen another professional filmmaker's book titled much closely like this, and that one was created by a man who had more success in both cartoons and full-length animated movies. Was Joey trying to get a head start in writing a documentary about him and the Bendy cartoons, or was he just trying to fuel his own ego? There's no way she would know by this point since she hasn't seen him at all.

"Well, I guess I'll just check around one more time before I go," Mae told herself.

There wasn't much for her to find afterwards, though, as one corner of the room can attest to; a turning corner revealed several collapsed boards and cobwebs blocking away what looked like more flooring – or a trapdoor, but it was rather hard to determine since she couldn't see clearly past the boards. The most she could do is to turn back and head for the control room with the gear and the book in tow since those are two of the six items required for the strange mechanism to start up.

* * *

At the same time, Henry retraced his trail back to the halls that split in different directions and started his search in, rather ironically, the last place he wanted to be. As much as he didn't want to investigate the room where they found the corpse, but he felt that there wasn't any choice in the matter; perhaps one of the required items needed is kept in there, and it wouldn't at least hurt to check around there before looking everywhere else. Although he couldn't find much inside that would be of importance, he did, however find a wrench left on the ground haphazardly, possibly long unused by whoever dropped it so carelessly. He picked it up and went on his way to see what else he can find that sticks out.

But then, he stopped out of curiosity with the door next to the dissected body, and opened it wide to find another room with art desks spread around under dim lighting from old bulbs completely behind in age. There didn't seem to be anything out of place as far as he was concerned, so he kept going on his way.

"It's a wonder how the artists got by while they were working here under Joey," he couldn't help commenting to himself.

Opening the door on the other end brought him back to the crossroads hall, where Henry took another direction and began to scope out where to look next when he rounded a corner to find a tape cassette nestled on a table accompanied by a small stuffed Bendy doll. The good news, at least, is that he found another of the items needed. But what is a cassette doing there? He felt tempted to take a listen to it, but he decided against it until he's rendezvoused with the children in the control room. But it doesn't necessarily mean he would leave it be. He decided to take it with him so that they can hear it together; maybe the recorder has something that can clue in as to what went down in the studio.

* * *

Using the directions to the art department given by his uncle, Bogart found himself inside the same room close to the desk where Uncle Henry had once worked. It disconcerted him that the room felt empty, devoid of activity with art projects left abandoned and uncared for. If the little memories he had about the studio are anything for him to go by, there were few people to work with that assisted their father and brother in the making of the cartoons; but with the departure of the both of them, it would've take a lot more people to be able to follow the same pattern as the creators once did within the first few years after the studio's official opening. After a moment of brief reminiscing, he snapped himself back into reality; he had a job to do, and he can't afford for too much interruptions until they've finished their business in the studio.

"C'mon, Bogart, focus! Try to find something that sticks out to you," he told himself, "Find whatever it is that the damn freaky pedestals need."

He looked around high and low across the desks in the room until he spotted a lone inkwell huddled underneath one. It didn't seem to have been used in a long time, as he can see that the ink inside it – or at least what ink there was left – had dried up completely, and the pen is dirty halfway up, with dried ink leaving behind fingerprints that are unrecognizable to him. It didn't seem to him like there's nothing else to find, so he left the department and made his way through the halls once again, opting to make his way to the control room and meet up with his sister and uncle.

Along the way, though, he was passing by the doors along the hall leading to the machine when a light under one of them suddenly shut down. The abnormality of it forced Bogart to stop what he's doing, and compelled him to investigate what just happened. Was someone behind that door, and heard him passing by?

When he opened the door, however, he found himself baffled that there's nobody inside; all he found is an empty desk, scattered papers strewn around the floor, and film reels messily arranged on the shelf. But the most noteworthy – and most disturbing – thing he found is a paper with a written message that read **_'HE WILL SET US FREE'_** in big letters. This disturbed Bogart, as the way it was written didn't sound too reassuring, let alone sane.

"Whoever wrote this is either trying to scare us off," he commented, "or is having a few screws loose…"

But then, as he was about to turn and leave, he stopped and looked down to find a music record propped up below the desk unattended. Did someone leave it there on purpose, or did someone mean to use it later but forgot about it somewhere down the line? He didn't care what the possibility might be. He simply took the music record and hastily made his way out of there, not too eager to waste his time on questions that he's not going to be able to answer without knowing what the heck is going on for real.

* * *

The return to the break room was a bit of a weird case for them; when they met up again, each of them had something to share regarding where they've been. But after the scare from a falling board, finding a dead body and a Bendy cutout that mysteriously popped up out of nowhere (which vanished as quickly as it came after they had left the control room), neither of them felt they've found anything more that would scare them so far. All the same, they found the items and brought them into the break room to put them where they fit.

"Okay, that's all of them," Henry said just as he finished placing the doll and wrench in their place.

"We had quite a search of the studio, didn't we?" Mae commented as she put the book down.

"Yeah, but now I'm starting to question what the hell we're doing," Bogart confessed, "Is there anything here that can explain why we have to do this, if at all?"

"Well…" Henry pulled out the tape cassette player from under his arm. "I found this while I was looking for two of the other items. Perhaps it might give us a clue on what happened in the studio."

Huddling around the old tape player Henry found during his search, they were able to see that a piece of sticky tape labelled it to be under the possession of someone under the name of Wally Franks. When he pressed the play button, the family listened closely to the complaining voice of a man with a Brooklyn accent as he spoke of the affairs of the studio, but what he spoke of raised the eyebrows of all of them listening.

 _'_ _At this point, I don't get what Joey's plan is for this company. The animations sure aren't being finished on time anymore. And I certainly don't see why we need this machine. It's noisy. It's messy. And who needs that much ink anyway?_

 _'_ _Also, get this. Joey had each one of us donate something from our work station. We put them on these little pedestals in the break room. To help appease the gods, Joey says. Keep things going._

 _'_ _But I tell you what. If one more of these pipes bursts, I'm outta here.'_

Well, it wasn't a lot to go on, as far as any informational clue is concerned. However, Henry had a sneaking suspicion that something must've tipped off one of his old acquaintances, Wally, into thinking that there's something amiss. At the very least, it gave him an indication that things must've gone off the rails after he had left the studio, years before Roger followed suit.

"…That was a bit creepy," Bogart finally said after a moment of silence.

"So…this person says that Joey's been doing weird things," Mae tried to process what she heard, "and is not doing his job as the boss of his own studio? It sounds like some bad business practices have been done here."

Hearing this gave Henry some thought as to what might've occurred in his absence; if what his old coworker Wally is saying is anything to go by, it may be possible that Joey has been faltering at his job a lot more than he would have when he and Roger were around. But one tape player is not enough to go by at this point; there had to be more somewhere in the studio. But given where they are right now, finding anything like that would be like trying to find a needle in the middle of a haystack.

But then, Bogart had this to ask, "Anyway, we brought all this stuff here, so what do we do now? I don't see anything changing here."

"We just have to get the ink flowing somehow," Henry replied, remembering the flashing signal, "There should be a switch around here somewhere. Then, once we find it, we can start up the main power."

"We've been all around the studio," Mae spoke up, "but I haven't seen a lot that stood out."

"But there is one hallway we haven't looked into while we were searching for the items for the break room," Henry told her, "I did say we shouldn't leave any stone unturned, didn't I?"

"You got us there, Uncle," Bogart agreed.

Following Henry's lead, they retraced down the hall where he had once been until they rounded a corner that none of them have passed through. At first, it didn't seem like there's anything wrong to speak of, just a couple closets not yet open and another corner likely leading to another room. But just as the trio were about to walk down the hall and see what they can find, a Bendy cutout suddenly poked its head out at them, making them jump from fright, before ducking away from their sight.

"Dammit! Again?!" Bogart growled in frustration.

"Why did that have to happen?" Mae sighed, trying to steady her breath.

Henry shook his head in displeasure. "I really wish I knew at this point…"

Rounding the corner let them see the annoying cutout that dared to show itself, but there was something that didn't quite sit right; below where the cutout is seen, they could see splotches of ink dotted past it, leading into what appeared to be the theater room, where any new film creations would be viewed for a test before being released to the public. It made them wonder if the model actually showed up on its own or if someone moved it there, and then fled the scene? If that's the case, then where's the perpetrator for the prank?

"Where did all that ink come from?" Bogart questioned as he examined the floor.

If the puzzling appearance of the Bendy cutout wasn't already unnerving enough, then the film projector suddenly turning on and playing a simple animated reel with a whistling tune on a loop absolutely is. How the projector managed to turn on by itself, they have no idea. But it hasn't stopped Henry so far, as after the incident; he cautiously stepped inside the theater room and stepped past the projector to find a valve with the label reading 'ink pressure'.

"Let's hope this thing isn't too rusty," he said to the children.

It took some more effort than usual on his part due to his age, but Henry managed to turn the valve in the right direction in order to get the pressure flowing. But just as he did, though, the pipe in the theater room suddenly bulged so much that a section of it began to burst and spilled out a waterfall of ink, causing the floor to be submerged in the black liquid in only a matter of seconds. When this happened, Henry made haste to escape the room before he caught in the mess, returning to a very stunned Mae and Bogart, who had just witnessed their first really big mess since first entering the studio.

"Was that supposed to happen?" Mae asked, surprised.

"I don't think so," Henry replied, realizing that he got ink on his shoes. "That pipe must be pretty old. Age, perhaps."

"Well, at least we found a few things to complain to your old friend about," Bogart commented dryly.

"Anyway, now that we've finished up here, let's see about starting up the machine," Henry suggested. "Let's just pray that we don't have another malfunction like what happened back there."

"I agree. My heart rate's already through the roof by now," Mae agreed nervously.

At the very least, after the scares and the scavenger hunting they had to do throughout the old studio, it didn't require a lot of effort to figure out where the control room is after being in there at least twice. By the time they got there, they found that the machinery surrounding the switch are now operating like the parts in a factory, and the light is flashing a 'ready' signal instead of the 'low pressure' signal; that meant that the machine is ready to be started up, and that meant the Ink Machine will begin to run once everything is fully operational. On cue, Henry pulled the switch to finish the process. Just as he did, the some of the lights in the studio seemed to have abruptly shut down while others have turned on, leaving small patches of light to give enough of a trail to navigate in the middle of this foreboding atmosphere of desolation. From a distance, the sound of something pumping and whooshing reverberated throughout the studio, but for a moment, they could've sworn that they heard something clanking through the pipes, like some kind of living being is crawling around as an animal would have been.

"Okay, now I'm not enjoying this," Bogart said, holding the crowbar tightly.

"That wasn't a rat…was it?" Mae had to ask because she didn't like what's going on right now.

"I don't know. Let's check the machine," Henry replied as he led the way.

On their way to the room where the Ink Machine is waiting, the family – for a brief moment – could hear something being hammered from a distance. Was someone actually here, doing something? They didn't know. But the hammering ended as quickly as it began, leaving them uncertain as to what to expect. When they rounded the corner, though, the trio was quite surprised to find a trail of footprints leading away from the Ink Machine room, and spatters of ink found in more places. It seemed like whoever was last there went out of the room barefoot, and had been fleeing the scene for some reason. But then, who could've been there before they even arrived at the site where the machine is?

"I don't like this, Uncle Henry," Mae admitted.

Bogart looked around the corner and found that the archway leading to the Ink Machine had been boarded up – and rather crudely at that.

"Well, someone was in a hurry to block us off," he deadpanned.

The sight baffled even Henry. "That's strange. Who would do this?"

As they got closer to the boarded up room, a strange sensation, and not the good kind, crept up their spines as they inched closer to peek inside as to what was going on inside that room. But before they could get a clear view as to what's going on, a terrifying spectacle suddenly emerged from behind the boards, trying desperately to claw right at them.

Language is powerless for the family to describe the horrors presented to them, but the creature that revealed itself bore the devilishly horned head, the signature bowtie, and the cheeky grin of the Bendy seen in the cartoons of the days of silent films and beyond; however, everything else about the visible visage felt wrong on too many accounts. The entire body was blackened with a perpetually oozing inky substance, obscuring the face but leaving the mouth to its own devices; its frame is close to that of a poor soul languished from starvation, like it's no more than skin and bones (if there ever was any skin to be seen at all) like that of the graphic portraits of horror from an unspeakable piece of a war story. The hand that clawed out to them is nothing more than a sharp blackened hand with dangerous claws protruding from without, and the singular glove and bowtie have both been ruined by the burdensome presence of the ink that continually bleeds out profusely without end.

Within the short few seconds the creature tried to jump out at them, meaning to ensnare them, the cries of uncle, niece and nephew all let loose at once as they tumbled backwards in terror at the sight of the monstrosity that emerged from behind the shadows of where the Ink Machine was last seen. But now there is no hope of finding the mechanical monster anywhere, as the ink has now begun to pour out in spades, leaving little opportunity for investigation. But for them, investigation is not an option – which meant there is only one choice: get out!

"We need to get the hell outta here!" Henry yelled as he picked up the kids and led them out of there.

As they fled for their lives, the ceilings began to break behind them, the shutters futilely cut them off from the hallway they've traversed, only to spurt ink from its unprotected corners. A pipe suddenly broke apart to let out steam as more ink began to spill out in roaring rivers and wood moaned and snapped under the pressure of the overbearing weight of the compounds, raising the pool of ink progressively higher.

"What the hell was that thing!?" Bogart shouted in the midst of the chaos.

"I don't want to stay around to find out!" Mae cried as she ran as fast as she could.

As the building kept breaking apart and unleashing more streams of ink throughout the room, the family frantically hurried through the flood of ink as quickly as their feet can carry them towards the exit door, hoping to be able to get out and get help as soon as possible. Unfortunately, just before they could reach the door, the floor beneath them broke apart from the pressure of the flooding ink and their weight, sending them plummeting several feet down below.

The landing, unquestionably, was very rough for all three of them; not helping matters is the ink that is already flooded around the area they have fallen into. By the time they regained their senses, Henry and the children came to realize to their greatest horror that they are now trapped inside the studio with their only chance to leave now completely cut off from them. But for now, Henry just wanted to make sure his niece and nephew are alright after all the terror they've just witnessed.

"Is everybody okay?" he asked, his concern very apparent, "Mae? Bogart?"

Bogart let out a groan as he hoisted himself up. "After what I've seen…I need a therapist."

Mae struggled to get up in the midst of the ink pool. "Uncle Henry…I'd like to get out of here. I want to go home!"

From Henry can observe out of the given responses, Bogart has begun to feel doubtful of his own sanity after the numerous horrors they've experienced from the start; Mae, though, was outright petrified and frightened enough that she behaved like a child who can't properly process the traumatic experience without adult help. Then again, he had an understanding of what they might be going through right now, considering that they've never had to experience something horrific at the level they went through just now; it wasn't like going through the procedure of a tragic funeral or witnessing a brutal crime firsthand. This was something more akin out of a horror film or a pulp fiction penny dreadful that used to be the hottest trend in the country – but this time, it felt all too real for them.

On a separate note, it's also found that everybody felt rather sluggish and heavy due to the huge portions of ink that quickly accumulated against their clothes, making them feel like a lot of invisible weights have been forced upon them. Henry and Bogart both found their overcoats nearly completely covered in ink, as well as their pants and shoes also stained to the point of being almost unrecognizable save for the laces that stuck fast on their shoes; Mae, on the other hand, had her coat and boots halfway splashed with ink, the trims of fur weighed down by the splotches of ink, and her hat had fallen off her head after the fall. Their hair had also gotten stained with ink, and there's no chance for them to get it all washed out anytime soon; even if they could find water, cleaning out the ink would be a pretty difficult job to do.

"Ugh! There's goddamn ink everywhere!" Bogart grumbled in disgust, "We gotta do something about this."

Trudging through the black goop with some difficulty, he immediately got to work turning the valve, which thankfully drained away the ink that had flooded the place and gave them more movement space. When the room had finally been cleared of the ink (with the exception of the still falling splatters of ink coming from above), now they have the chance to get their bearings again and try to figure out what to do.

"So much for a simple visit," Henry sighed in displeasure, "Now it looks like we're trapped in here."

"What do we do now?" Mae asked, clinging to her uncle for comfort.

That was when Bogart spotted a tape player on a shelf. "Maybe that tape's got something we can learn about."

The next tape player they picked up from the shelf was found to have been used by someone by the name of Thomas Connor, someone that Henry barely remembers as a formal acquaintance at best. Playing the cassette gave them the recorded voice of a man with a gruff, serious tone that had a lot to grumble about when spoken aloud, and the subject is not your average complaints coming from a mechanic.

 _'_ _It's dark and it's cold and it's stuck in behind every wall now. In some places, I swear this godforsaken ink is clearly up to my knees! Whoever thought that these crummy pipes could hold up under this kind of strain either knows something about pressure that I don't, or he's some kind of idiot._

 _'_ _But the real worst part about all this…is them noises the system makes. Like a dying dog on its last legs. Make no mistake, this place…this…machine…heck, this whole damn thing…it just isn't natural._

 _'_ _You can bet, I won't be doing any more repair jobs for Mister Joey Drew.'_

Well, it wasn't a lot to go on, but they can tell from the frustration spilling out of the handyman's voice that he didn't have the best of times while working under Joey Drew; also, the fact that this person has experienced the problems firsthand made them dread what other problems might've occurred besides the issue with the ink pressure and disrepair of the studio itself.

But that isn't the biggest thing on this family's minds, no, far from it. All three of them couldn't believe what they had just witnessed ever since starting up the Ink Machine; they couldn't believe that they had just seen before their very eyes what was supposed to be the comical demon that the studio brought to life during the booming era of early films during the Golden Age of Silent Cinema. What was once a jolly good sight to watch regardless of the annoying controversy complaints of the religious groups is now a repulsive, incomprehensible abomination that bears little to no semblance of the lovable Bendy they've known in the past; it's like someone had been crudely playing Dr. Frankenstein with cartoon animation, and something in the process went completely off the rails, resulting in an unmanageable monstrosity that is out for blood without good reason. Whatever it is that Joey was doing in the absence of Henry and Roger, it doesn't have a great appeal to them now. Now the family wants to escape from the studio more than anything else at this point. But how are they going to do that since they've fallen right into a trap, and they can't get out of it?

"So, what do we do now, Uncle?" Bogart finally asked. "We're stranded in this godforsaken place, there's no way to reach the floor upstairs, and we've no way to call for help. What other options do we have left?"

"We'll have to keep going and find another way out of here," Henry replied, starting to lead them to the door left ajar. "It's our only chance right now."

"I guess…finding Joey is out of the question now?" Mae piped nervously.

Henry thought about it a moment before he gave his answer. They had initially planned to go the studio to try and see whether Joey is at the studio, waiting for them to see him personally. But after everything they've seen, he's having his doubts about his old friend's intentions for the invitation – in fact, he should've known that there would be problems in this mess.

Then, he answered, "Well, if we find him while we find a way out, then he's going to have a lot of explaining to do."

"Great, 'cuz I've got a thing or two to say to that crazy bastard," Bogart agreed bitterly.

With the ink drained from the room they fell into, the family started to make their departure down the stairs, leading towards who knows where within the studio. Despite the drainage of the ink visible to them, it seemed like there was already serious leakage and damage done from unseen ink spills somewhere within the deteriorating walls. However, it doesn't take long for them to discover that there are more flooded pools of ink along the stairwell, and assorted bizarre decorations are scattered around the shelves against the walls; and the contents are not placed where they are simply for pleasant decorations.

When there was an ink flood to be found, there was a pipe with a valve not too far off; this time, Henry turned the next valve, causing the ink to drain away just enough for them to move on further down until they found another valve with a pool of ink, where Bogart dared to trudge through the sludge and drain away the rest of the ink from the area. After that, their journey down the stairs led them into another room where the next hall is boarded up, leaving only an empty space where a desk lay abandoned from lack of use and ink leaked relentlessly from another of the protruding crummy pipes that stuck out like a sore thumb. On the wall to their left, though, is an unnerving message scrawled in ink that appeared to be written in accusatory anger at whoever is the subject of hatred: **_THE CREATOR LIED TO US_**.

"Well, someone's got some issues," Bogart said dryly.

"I hate to think of who wrote this while working here," Mae agreed, not catching her brother's sarcasm.

Henry had no words about the message, but he had just as many questions as his nephew and niece probably do. Who was the message directed to? Who was the creator, and what lie was committed in the workplace?

But then, on the desk, he spotted an axe left unused. Thinking back on the horrors they've experienced, he felt sure that there might be more hazards ahead of them. To him, it would be wise to arm himself like Bogart is with his crowbar, just in case the monster shows its ugly face again; so, he picked it up and carried it with him.

"This will definitely come in handy," he said proudly to himself. He then turned his attention to the children. "Let's get through these boards, and work our way out."

"You gonna need some help, Uncle?" Bogart asked.

"If I do, you'll know what to do," his uncle replied.

"Then we'll follow right behind you," Mae promised as she stuck close to her brother.

Taking the lead, Henry started to take a few swings with the axe, breaking the boards one by one as each piece of wood fell like a limping limb. Further down the hall, more nailed boards are chopped in two as Bogart and Mae followed behind their uncle while moving aside stray wooden boards that haven't been used. Before long, they rounded a corner where a boarded up door waited for them, in which the boards met the same fate as the rest. After cleaning up the mess left behind, the family proceeded to open the door…but is not prepared for what they find.

Ahead of them is a solitary room, dimly lit by candles arranged within what appeared to be a ritualistic circle, hand-drawn by thin paint or ink with a pentagram in the middle of the sinister circle. Surrounding the ritualistic circle are three large wooden coffins, two of them propped up in a slant against the wall while another is nestled in its proper position towards another side of the wall. The sight gave the family a very bad impression that someone – very likely Joey – might have been trifling with the occult or something much worse than that. Was there some kind of cult being formed over the course of thirty years? When did cultism become a thing around here?

"What in…" Henry was at a loss for words.

Just as they had fully entered the room to investigate, something strange came over the three; like something in the environment changed even though they haven't done anything to make trouble. It's like whatever is there is making them feel sick, and it isn't the sight of the coffins or the lukewarm air around them.

Bogart held fast to his stomach and his mouth like he's about ready to vomit. "Urgh…I'm getting nauseous…"

Mae suddenly felt a strong dizziness churning in her head. "Ngh… My head's spinning…"

Henry, seeing there's a problem, started to hurry to help them. "Bogart, Mae, are you both feeling –"

But just as he stepped into the circle on his way to check on the children, a suddenly migraine pressed in full force against his brain, freezing him in place as he clutched his available hand to his head; but it did nothing to alleviate the pain for him. Then, all of a sudden, without warning he felt flashes of images flow in rapid succession across his vision, most of them too blurry to decipher due to the speed of the pictures running through his mind. As this was happening, he could've sworn that the room was covered in ink, darkening the room save for the candles still flickering against the powerful force in control of the room.

One by one, each family member instantly lost their ability to remain conscious and collapsed to the floor. Henry dropped down in the middle of the circle, sprawled out with his head turned to one side. Mae collapsed backwards a little ways from her uncle's right side, her legs spread crookedly and her arms spread around her. Bogart fell to his knees and then fell down on his side, his arms and legs bunched close to him as he lost consciousness from the nausea he couldn't shake off.

In a matter of seconds, the entire family is out cold, left at the mercy of the force that afflicted them, and unable to escape…


	4. Chapter 3: The Old Song part 1

**And now, for a little more to the plot.**

 **After the tortures of distractions and writer's block, another chapter at last makes its debut. This fanfiction...yes, I still remember it.**

 **I remember a reviewer waiting to hear 'Can I get an amen?'**

 **And now, here it is, as promised.**

 **And there's a little more...flavor I've added to this concoction. A little glimpse of the past, for those who wish to have a small glimpse to the tragedy of Henry's family.**

 **Oh, don't worry. There will be more. You need only be patient with me, my little reviewers. After all, even my mind can wander off like Sammy's did.**

 **All the same, I hope you'll enjoy this new chapter.**

 **Can I get an amen?**

 **I own nothing of BATIM except my OCs.**

 **Read, leave me a review, but flames are not acceptable.**

* * *

Chapter 2 – The Old Song, Part 1

 _Seven years ago…_

 _It is a quiet autumn evening, in a local hospital in the middle of a suburban town, Henry solemnly followed a nurse down the hall. He had no idea what happened that required the hospital to call him at this hour, but since his brother is the matter at hand, he had to answer the call. Not helping things is that the atmosphere of the room is heavy with melancholy and rife with suffering from those who are undergoing the treatments of the doctors, their only saving grace being the staff that cared for their patients. Right now, it seemed unnervingly silent, only his and the nurses' footsteps echoing around the hall._

 _The nurse stopped at one room door as she whispered, "I'm sorry about your brother, sir. We've done all we could to help him, but…he's too far along."_

 _Henry nodded, knowing what to expect. "It's okay. I'm sure not even Roger expected to be in critical condition." He paused. "How much longer does he have?"_

 _"_ _The doctor believes he might go through one last seizure," the nurse replied somberly, "After that…well, we believe he won't survive this time."_

 _He should've expected this. He had always thought there was something wrong when his brother hadn't called him in months, but he didn't think that deadly seizures were the reason behind his unnatural absence. But then again, he and Roger were no stranger to the latter's weak immune system since their boyhood, and have been able to manage any medical problems that come their way up to this point. But now, it seemed like he had found himself in a life-threatening condition that he can't fight through this time, and he doesn't have much time left to live._

 _The nurse said nothing more as she opened the door, allowing Henry to step inside the room where he was greeted by a tragic sight. Unlike his usually healthy self in the past, Roger was now thin and pale from suffering serious sickness that he had never suspected for quite some time; his hair once black had turned almost completely grey, and his eyes appeared heavy-lidded, hardly able to open due to invisible pain. The sight almost made Henry feel pale, not from repulsion but from horror._

 _His now frail brother, hearing company coming, turned his head slowly to greet his relative despite the tragic circumstances._

 _"_ _Hey, Henry…" Roger greeted him, his voice weak and cracked, "Sorry for worrying you."_

 _"_ _No, it's fine. Though…you had me worried when your wife told me about your seizure," Henry replied, trying his best to be reassuring. "And I thought you had enough troubles with the asthma you developed years ago."_

 _His brother chuckled dryly. "Yes, well…I thought I was doing fine. I had a stable job as a studio art director, I've helped invoke new imagination for the library of Omniversal Studios, and our family life has never been better. But when I was suddenly struck…well…it caused quite a panic among the staff."_

 _Henry nodded slowly. "I bet it did."_

 _Silence permeated the room for a moment or two, neither of the two men saying another word; in the silence, their eyes and their faces are in mutual agreement of how horrifying it had to, have to be struck by illness none of them expected to return._

 _But then, after a brief pause, Roger's face suddenly turned somber; but hidden within the resigned eyes, something else sparked inside him – an unease, once buried deep now resurfacing, reawakening something that was supposed to remain under wraps._

 _"_ _Henry…" He suddenly spoke._

 _His brother looked up, puzzled. "Something wrong, Roger?"_

 _The frail sibling turned to him, a sense of dread seeping through his face. "Have you heard anything from Joey?"_

 _Henry shook his head. "No, I haven't. Why?"_

 _Roger tensed a bit. "That place…the studio…if only you've seen what I've seen. The things I've seen…they've haunted me ever since I left. Everything – everyone there – was starting to come apart; people were losing their morales, and Joey – dear god, Joey – if you've seen what happened to him…" He paused before saying something strange. "Henry. If you ever return to the studio, this is my only warning to you: nothing is as it seems."_

* * *

After a brief ringing in his ears died down, Henry groggily woke up with a pain somewhere in his head. He couldn't remember what happened after he saw those eerie visions; all he knew was that he is here, in the middle of some kind of ritual circle. The most he could barely remember was stepping in the circle as he was about to check on his niece and nephew when he was overcome with strange visions – visions that he could barely recollect. What did he see before he passed out? The most he could recall is glimpses of the Ink Machine, an empty wheelchair, and the form of that abominable inked creature they had seen earlier. After that… Well, he doesn't know.

"Ugh, oh my head…" Henry groaned, "What happened?"

Slowly, he heaved himself up from the floor, using the leverage of his arms to hoist himself up before he finally got to his knees. Then, he proceeded to approach his nephew on the left side of the circle, who is still curled partway like he was about to lose his lunch, and he carefully nudged him in an attempt to wake him up until he finally saw movement and heard a slurred sleepy noise coming out of Bogart's mouth.

"Urgh…tell me I didn't vomit," Bogart groaned.

"No, you didn't," Henry replied, reassuring his nephew.

A sigh of relief escaped his mouth. "Great. If I did, that would've been embarrassing."

Henry couldn't help chuckling to himself; Bogart never liked being sick, let alone unknowingly going through the motions of common sickness where anyone would notice. But at the very least, it seemed that whatever made him ill had disappeared for some time.

While his nephew took his time to recover himself, Henry crossed to the other side of the room to check in on his niece, Mae, who was still on the floor passed out. She was sprawled out on the floor, lying on her back. Carefully, he knelt down and nudged her as gently as he could until he felt her stirring on the floor, regaining consciousness as she slowly looked around the room to find everyone else awake and regaining activity.

"Uncle…what just happened?" Mae asked sleepily.

He shook his head. "I don't really know. I guess we all blacked out."

As the children started to recover their strength and get up off the floor, Henry made his way over to one of the coffins, where he found the axe and the crowbar propped up on the flat end of the lid. How the axe and crowbar got there, he had no idea. Did someone come by this location, found the tools on the ground, and put them up so that they wouldn't get dirty? If that was the case, then why isn't there any evidence of someone passing by here, let alone having picked up the axe and the crowbar and placed them by the caskets? There's no way he could ever find the answer at a time like this; he knew that he and his niece and nephew are still trapped in the studio, and they need to find a way out of here as soon as possible.

Then, Bogart asked, "So, now what?"

"Well, there's only one thing we can do: press on," Henry replied knowingly, "Let's see if we can find a way out of here."

"That sounds good to me," Mae agreed fully.

"Same here," Bogart seconded.

With Henry at the lead with the trusty axe, Bogart armed with the crowbar and Mae huddled between them for safety, they started to make their way into wherever the door would lead them next. After breaking down the boards blocking the door, they opened it to find a stairway descending down to another level. From above, faint lights are seen flickering downstairs, though from up the top of the stairs, they couldn't tell whether it was electrical or no. Moving with utmost caution so as to be wary of future encounters, the family made their descent to investigate where the trail will lead them - but not without getting momentarily spooked by pieces of wood that abruptly collapsed from the ceiling and clattered to the bottom of the stairs. Compared to what they've seen thus far, planks of wood felt a lot more tame for them to handle; the only thing that worries them is whether or not they'll run into that abominable form of Bendy again. By the time they reached the bottom of the stairs, though, what they found there surprised them.

Awaiting them is a new hallway lit up by scattered candles, revealing more traces of ink splattered in various places as well as electric boxes and machinery that seemed to have been put there for some reason; piping continues to protrude through the walls above them, and another ritualistic circle is found near two more coffins. Nearby them, the corner of the wall had the words **_HE WILL SET US FREE_** written in big letters along with what looked like bowls filled with…whatever it is that's being used. More cutouts of Bendy, one small set nearby the cryptic message, and two others nestled in two parts of the hall far apart, stand quietly with their infectious grin and queer eyes continually watching them.

Henry looked around, confusion running through the mind. "How did this place get so big?"

"For that matter, how does anyone get around in this place?" Mae added.

"If Joey's trying to give us the heebie-jeebies, he's doing a good job at it," Bogart commented dryly.

It didn't seem like there's anything that would arouse suspicion for them at first glance; but as they slowly inspected the hall for anything out of the ordinary, Henry noticed a tape player huddled close to the Bendy cutout leaned against a platform. When he inspected the player, he found a piece of tape stuck on it, but he couldn't make out the name of the user of the player because it was too badly smudged to be readable. Curious to find out whose recording this is, he pressed the play button, allowing the tape to play the voice of someone – a male with a higher pitched voice, no less – speaking with fluidity like a viola, but he didn't sound like he is in the right state of mind by the time this recording was made.

 _'_ _He appears from the shadows to rain his sweet blessings upon me. The figure of ink that shines in the darkness. I see you, my savior. I pray you hear me._

 _'_ _Those old songs…yes, I still sing them. For I know you are coming to save me. And I will be swept into your final loving embrace._

 _'_ _But love requires sacrifice. Can I get an amen?'_

But no sooner did the tape finish playing the unsettling little…journal of someone who doesn't have his head screwed on straight, the very same voice spoke from somewhere in the room.

"I said: can I get an amen?"

No sooner did they hear it, Bogart and Mae quickly huddled close to their uncle for safety. But none of them heard from the mysterious person who appeared to have been aware of their presence inside the studio. If they didn't know any better, what's going on right now almost felt like something out of an Omniversal horror movie, particularly the ones where the monster is hiding out of sight, nearly impossible to find at the beginning as though waiting for the chance to pounce on them. But then, is there anybody in the studio at all? It should be abandoned, given what they've seen back up in the main area. That's what they want to know.

"I tell you, this feels like one of those ghost movies we used to watch as kids," Bogart finally spoke tensely.

"I don't know about ghosts, but I have a feeling that someone knows we're here," Henry admitted. "Let's keep going. But keep an eye out for anything strange."

"That we can do," Mae promised nervously.

Following the next trail, their next movement led them around the corner to a short hall that is flooded with ink that is oozing out from the ceiling, probably due to the malfunctions of the pipework somewhere above them. Luckily for them, though, they didn't have to worry about having to swim in it, let alone be dragged down by it due to the depth of the floor leading deeper into the studio; but nonetheless, the family cautiously made their way through the pool of ink as they moved past a stream of ink to their right and had to deal with drips coming from other places. As they neared the other side, however, the sound of someone walking by caught their attention along with an eerie voice saying something they couldn't entirely understand.

Then, before their eyes, a mysterious person – or what they think is a person, unless their eyes are deceived – slowly trudged past them, carrying with him – most likely a man given the physical structure – a Bendy cutout like a toy, not even realizing that there are other people coming up from the other side of the hallway. Henry, wondering if it's someone who is involved in the studio, dropped most of his caution as he tried to get the stranger's attention.

"Hello! Excuse me, can you help us?" he called out, vying to get attention. "Hello?"

But it didn't work, as the stranger didn't seem to notice them, let alone hear Henry calling to him, and kept moving on elsewhere. In an effort to catch up with this person and try to catch his attention, Henry and his relatives hurried to the other side, hoping to be able to keep up with the stranger. But by the time they got there, however, all three of them are greeted with only a Bendy cutout standing upright by another one of those pentagrams, and no trace of the mysterious passerby can be found, save for a splotch of ink nearby the cracks of a wall that appeared to have broken apart from age. Over to the right stood a shelf filed with cans of…something, whatever it might be, and some of them hid an electrical panel nestled on the wall.

"Where the hell did he go?" Henry wondered, perplexed at the scene.

"Either we're hallucinating here, or the guy pulled a disappearing act," Bogart commented as he looked around.

"But we saw him heading down this way," Mae protested, "Shouldn't there be a door here or something?"

Her brother grumbled in frustration. "I swear things are making less and less sense as we go further in this place. What's next, a labyrinth dedicated to the likes of Lovecraft?"

"I'd be careful with what you say, Bogart," Henry warned, "I don't think Lovecraft would use large amounts of ink that we've seen so far."

If any theorizing on Lovecraftian influences in the studio wasn't enough for them to worry about, they found themselves with another doozy on their hands. Over to their right, a gate shutter is closed, and a control panel with a single switch is left unused with three lights not blinking from nonuse. Nearby them is something very odd – a statue of Bendy, erected like a monument to a character with full honors as would any memorialized historical figure. But the statue looming nearby wasn't the first thing on their minds – rather they want to know how they're going to get any further with the gate closed.

"Great. Another road block," Bogart groaned in displeasure.

Henry examined the control panel. "We'll need to get power to the gate somehow. Should be a couple switches nearby. Then maybe we can open it."

"I think I saw one near the shelf full of cans," Mae recalled from earlier.

"Which means any others would've been back at the hall where we found that tape recorder," her brother agreed. He started to turn back to the inky hallway. "I think one of us should head back and find them."

Henry had a suspicion about where this is going. "Are you thinking of traversing back by yourself?"

"I'll be fine, Uncle. If anything tries to mess with me, I got my crowbar," Bogart assured him.

This was true: the kids are pretty much grown adults by this point, and by all accounts, should be able to keep themselves safe in the event that they're on their own. Their parents are no longer in their lives, and they had to mature in some aspects. Plus, since all three of them are trapped in a situation that demands escape, it meant that they all have to do whatever they can to survive through their ordeal alive.

"…Just be cautious, Bogart," Henry warned firmly.

"No problem, Uncle," Bogart reassured his uncle as he walked away back to the hall they came from.

* * *

As Bogart made his return to the hall where the candles still lit the otherwise dim area, he abruptly noticed that his shoulders shuddered for a moment, like something cold just touched his spine and he's feeling it even though it doesn't feel like he's inside a freezer in here. He already had a bit of a scare after listening to the tape player when someone spoke from somewhere in the hall, but he didn't understand why it opted to return after having already been unnerved by whatever it is that's haunting them. Is someone watching him as he made his return? Was it that stranger who disappeared without a trace after crossing the hall they entered, or was there someone else watching him?

He didn't want to think about it. He wants to just do what he planned to do and get back to his sister and uncle so they can get out of the studio as soon as possible – if they ever can find a way out faster, that is.

Thankfully, he didn't have to look too far for anything that had the electric symbol connected to the switch panel near the gate. That meant he found the switches that are needed to get the control powered up again; the only thing he had to deal with has to open up the panels and get access to the switches. Luckily for him, he made good use of his crowbar with one to unlock one since the first he came across felt a little too old and refused to open on its own; the second one wasn't too much trouble for him, and he simply flipped the switch so that the light came on, letting him know that he had turned on the power.

As he made his way back, though, he couldn't help stopping a moment to look around the place for anything out of place in the space he was about to leave. He couldn't believe that he can't shake off the feeling of being watched – or worse, being followed. Bogart had no idea whether to call it paranoia or just simply precaution. Either way, he just wants to get a move on and get out of here.

* * *

"Uncle Henry, what do you suppose happened to us as soon as we entered that room with the eerie circle?" Mae had to ask.

Henry shook his head sadly. "Truthfully…I don't know what happened."

While waiting for Bogart to return from his search, Henry and Mae had just started a brief conversation as they worked on removing the cans of what they discovered to be bacon soup from the bottom shelf in order to reach the switch futilely hidden behind them. Of course, given how they are in a place that might as well be decrepit and crumbling somewhere, it's likely that Bogart might be taking extra caution with him so as to not have another frightful encounter they experienced upstairs ever since they've turned on the machine as instructed.

"When we stepped in the room, the most I could recall was a feeling of sickness," Mae told her uncle, "Then, when I lost consciousness, I thought I heard faint voices…but I couldn't clearly make out whose they were. Did you ever experience anything like that?"

Henry hesitated a moment before he answered, "There were visions - but they went by so fast I can't remember what I saw. Then…I was reliving the last time I saw your father alive."

For a moment, Henry could see his niece lower her head briefly, a saddened look on her face very apparent. Even now, after seven years since his passing, any mention of their father was still a bitter medicine to take.

"…I guess age is starting to creep up on me," Henry ceased his pause. "Reliving some memories comes with the territory."

The conversation ended when Bogart returned to the hall; he had apparently found the other switches from the where they last walked through, and is making his way back. But it isn't hard to notice that he's feeling a little spooked, even if he wouldn't willingly admit it, let alone show it openly.

"I got the switches back there," he announced, "Are all the lights on?"

"Yes, they are," Mae replied.

"Let's find out where this gate leads," Henry said as he reached for the switch.

At the pull of the switch, a small rumbling filled the room, nearly causing everything around them to tremor – but luckily, nothing within their vicinity collapsed under the strain of the petty quake. The gate slowly ascended as it creaked and moaned under the strain, most likely from not being used for decades, gradually revealing an archway blocked off by more planks of wood leading down to another room that they couldn't quite make out from afar.

Bogart let out a dismayed sigh. "Another roadblock…just what we need."

"I won't deny it. I'm starting to wonder why the paths are blocked like this," his uncle agreed.

After taking apart the boards blocking the way through, the family found themselves inside another part of the studio. There wasn't a lot of light to be found in the room, save for a candle or two nestled somewhere around the area, but from what they're able to see, the big sign let them know that the new section they're in is the music department. It wasn't hard to figure that out because the billboard is decorated with record discs and music notes; two separate halls led to different locations, one side blocked off by a security gate and a door next to an inactive electrical panel that leads someplace else. However, even with that, the splotches of ink scattered across the room let them know that there's still the presence of ink to worry about; there was even splashes behind the panel, and pipes lingering above their heads. It really begs the question: just how much ink was Joey investing in, and for what?

But Henry couldn't help commenting, "It's dark in here."

While scoping out the place, Bogart found another cassette player settled by the billboard. He examined it closely to find that the person who had once used it was known by the name of Sammy Lawrence – a name that strangely felt vaguely familiar to him, but couldn't pinpoint where he heard it before. But he shrugged off the thought, and decided to hand it to his uncle so they can hear what this tape has to say since it's their only clue to what happened in the studio's past.

"Here's another tape. You think it might give us more ideas on what Joey's been doing?" Bogart asked.

"Not sure. Let's take a look," Henry replied as he took the player.

When he pushed the play button, the family listened as the same fluid high-pitched voice come out from the player. But this time, the voice is noticed to be a lot more irritable, but otherwise saner than in the last recording they listened to earlier when the same speaker gave off the air of madness that gave the impression of being involved in some kind of cult. Carefully, they listened to the man vent his frustrations about what went on during his work in the studio, most of which is heavily directed toward Joey Drew.

 _'_ _So first, Joey installs this Ink Machine over our heads. Then it begins to leak. Three times last month, we couldn't even get out of our department because the ink had flooded the stairwell._

 _'_ _Joey's solution? An ink pump to drain it periodically._

 _'_ _Now I have this ugly pump switch right in my office._

 _'_ _People in and out all day._

 _'_ _Thanks, Joey. Just what I needed._

 _'_ _More distractions._

 _'_ _Really…Roger always had more sensible solutions to any problem than this._

 _'_ _These stupid cartoon songs don't write themselves, you know.'_

As they listened to the complaints of Sammy over the developed problems that came up after the installation of the Ink Machine, it raised more red flags over their heads as they can't help wondering just what madcap schemes Joey has been doing over the past thirty years. It gave them good reason to question where he got the idea of creating such an impractical machine, or what he thought the machine could possibly do to make the studio stay in operation for that matter. But at the slight mention of Roger, it tugged at Mae and Bogart's heartstrings a bit, and Henry couldn't help sighing sadly about it; it's very likely that anybody who had last seen the other brother never knew what had become of him after all these years. Perhaps things really have fallen apart after both Henry and his brother departed from their business in the studio, and everyone suffered under Joey's problematic management. No wonder the man behind the music sounded rather grumpy about the things he had to put up with.

"I guess whatever happened here is much worse than we think," Mae dreaded the worst.

"If what this guy's saying is any indication, I'm pretty sure we're gonna be having those kind of problems as we move along," Bogart agreed.

"You mean flooded ink? Maybe," Henry had to agree, "If we're unlucky enough."

But, oh boy, were they about to find out firsthand just how right they are about encountering more floods of ink! If they thought that it was bad enough having to save themselves from drowning in a flood of ink back on the ground floor of the studio and then landing right in the middle of an already flooded area underground, the family is about to be greeted by an unwelcome sight in this floor. Right behind them stood a pathway leading to a set of stairs leading down to a door that has the exit mark…but there's just one problem. The stairwell is filled with ink, and it's nearly reached the doorknob.

When Henry realized this, he couldn't help sighing in displeasure. "Looks like the stairwell is flooded. If we're going to get out of here, we'll need a way to drain it."

Bogart let out an annoyed groan. "Great…should've known we'd run into this again."

Over to the side, Mae noticed what looked to be a switch near the stairwell. It struck her as odd that it's placed so conveniently placed there; but what she didn't have the slightest idea about is what the switch is supposed to do. So, partly out of curiosity and partly because she hoped for something to happen to the ink blocking their path, she carefully pulled the lever just to see what happens.

In the case of the stairwell, nothing happened at all. That clued in the means to get rid of the ink is likely located elsewhere in this level.

Henry and Bogart looked over at Mae a moment, silently questioning why she opted to operate a lever before thinking it over.

The most answer she could give is, "I wasn't sure what the switch would affect."

However, as she pulled the lever down, something else happened instead that caught the family's attention in an instant. They turned around to see the lights in the entrance of the music department turn on and brighten up the area. Though it isn't anything to write home about, at the very least it will make navigating the department much easier for them in the long run. But there's something that suddenly put them on edge rather than celebrating potential progress for them through the music department, and it's not the lighting of the main room that has them worried.

"I have a bad feeling something's gonna come at us," Bogart said tensely, holding up the crowbar.

"Let's just hope it's not…him," Henry said as he held his axe ready.

"If it's Bendy, we're in trouble," Mae agreed nervously.

As they cautiously stepped back into the music department's main room, huge blobs of ink abruptly dropped down from the ceiling and splattered onto the floor, almost surrounding them like a blockade. But upon closer inspection, the family is rudely greeted by the emergence of a black, vaguely humanoid abomination that partially surfaced from the puddle of ink left behind after the fall, spraying out bits of ink as they manifested into their distorted physical form and proceeded to drag itself across the floor. Not helping in any way is that when all three of them arrived right in the middle of the room, more of the freaky fiends emerged from the ink and made their slithery march across the floor like a pack of predators pursuing their first prey they've ever seen in a long time.

"What the hell –" Bogart's curse got cut short when he was forced to bludgeon the being into oblivion.

At the very least, Henry didn't have too much problems offering up resistance against the creatures that surfaced; with the axe acquired, he was able to effectively decapitate the ink creatures that approached within his personal space. Mae, on the other hand, had a little trouble since she had no weapon for herself, so she had little options but to give their goopy heads a good kick to the face just to drive them back until she could get help on her end. That's where Bogart came in since he is able to use the crowbar as both a bludgeon and a handy tool for decapitating in an unconventional sense. Sure, for the three of them, there was still the threat of those things trying to seize them for some reason, but frankly, none of them wanted to know just what those freaks are capable of.

By the time they had taken care of all the creatures that tried to attack them, everything abruptly fell silent as a faint beeping noise hummed in the room; the panel that once showed nothing flashed the word 'recording' like there's about to be a musical session in preparation when there's no musicians to be found in the place. The shutter gate that blocked off one section of the department removed itself, revealing more sections of the department leading to other locations to explore.

Able to get a breather, Bogart had to ask, "Did you see those things? How the hell did they come to be here?"

"I'm not sure I want to know what they are," Henry replied with uncertainty, "But what I'd love to know is whether someone meant to send them after us."

"Honestly, I'd rather not think about it," Mae didn't feel too happy about what happened. "I've seen enough scary things as it is. I don't want any more monsters coming after us."

That's something Henry can undoubtedly agree on, considering how the disturbing sight of Bendy already frightened them extensively; but considering how they saw a creepy person walk by one minute and disappeared the next, and then having to encounter those inky monsters that attempted to ambush them, it stands reason for him to believe that this won't the last time they encounter anything that shouldn't be real. And besides, he can't shake off the chilling feeling that maybe the people that worked in the studio might've had something horrifying happen to them, and that the monsters and the unnatural events are the result of whatever it is that warped and distorted everything that he used to know.

But he'd rather not scare the children any more than the creatures already did. Right now, they have to figure out what they're going to do now that the monsters are gone…for now. There are three options to continue their investigations, and there's a lot of opportunity to scatter and cover more ground so that more clues can be found. Though, he couldn't shake off the feeling that if they do split up again, it might offer the possibility of something attempting to sabotage them at the first opportunity.

Personally, he'd rather not think about it. He'd rather catch someone watching or stalking them before he jumps to conclusions on the risk factor; he doesn't want to get too paranoid about the situation without freaking the kids out.

"So, we've got three places to check. How are we gonna approach this?" Bogart asked.

"If we're splitting up again, I hope we have good reason to do it," Mae warned.

"We won't split up, at least not right now," Henry finally answered, "We'll take a look at the nearest hall and find that pump switch the tape mentioned. It'll make our trip around the music department a little easier in the long run."

"You mean the one the gate opened up to, right?" Mae asked, just to be sure.

"The very same," their uncle replied.

"Well, if it can make doing our treasure hunts less of a hassle, I guess that'll work," Bogart agreed.

From there, Henry took the lead as they inspected around the hall for anything that would stick out to them. On one side, two of the rooms didn't hold much of value except an abandoned desk in one and a lone pipe organ in another. On the other side, they did see a sign that pointed to the direction of a place referred to as an infirmary, but they didn't think about prying there because they were more focused on finding the ink pump switch.

But imagine their disappointment when they found that the location of the pump switch is not only barred by a glass window, but there's also a pipe nestled above that made a massive burst, leaving behind a large flood of ink that made getting anywhere near the door a lot harder than it reasonably should.

"Why is the whole studio working against us?" Bogart asked sarcastically.

Henry sighed. "I wish I saw this coming. That's one hell of a leak blocking this door. If we could just stop this ink from leaking, then we can get in."

Mae looked over them and spotted another tape player perched on a shelf nailed to the wall.

"There's another tape player," Mae pointed out. "Maybe it can give us an idea on what to do."

Taking that cue, Henry this time around made his way across the inky floor and picked up the cassette player from the shelf. Once again, they found this one to have been used by Wally Franks; no doubt he'll have yet another problem to complain about, given what they've heard from the last tape.

 _'_ _So I go to get my dust pan from the hall closet the other day, and guess what? I can't find my stupid keys. It's like they disappeared into thin air or something._

 _'_ _All I can think of is that they must've fallen into one of the garbage cans as I was making my rounds last week._

 _'_ _I just hope nobody tells Sammy, because if he finds out I lost my keys again, I'm outta here.'_

All three of them just couldn't help shaking their heads at the last thing Wally just said; they can't help wondering how many times he ever said that while working in that place. On the plus side, at the very least they have an idea on what it is they're looking for if they want to find a way to reach the office belonging to Sammy, which he doesn't seem to have used as of late given what they've heard in the previous tape player. However, there is one drawback to this relief: which garbage can are the keys dropped into and subsequently forgotten? That's where yet another problem came in.

Bogart groaned. "Damn it…why can't things ever be any easier?"

"I guess we'll just have to search every trash can we can find," Mae said with a sigh.

"I suppose we'll have to split up after all," Henry agreed reluctantly, "search around the department as much as we can."

"Yeah, and I know what word of warning might come up: keep an eye for anything that might be stalking us," Bogart added like he knows what's coming up, "Trust me, the last thing any of us want is a stalker creeping on us and kidnapping us. I know I wouldn't if I was searching for anything alone."


End file.
